The Scars that Words have Carved on Me
by Imbrii
Summary: Watanuki, through careless words, causes Doumeki to be stolen away by a kami. It's up to Watanuki to save him, navigating the confusing Other World where not everything is as it seems.  Implied WatanukixDoumeki. Spoilers for up to ch140 or so.


**Written for the holicminibang comm on LJ. Check out the original post there, where dragon_gypsy was so kind as to make an FST for this!**

**Reviews are always appreciated.**

"That idiot, I wish he'd stop bothering me all the time!" grumbles Watanuki as he watches Doumeki exit through the gate, piling the dirty dishes with a bit too much force. "Doesn't he get that I—"

Yuuko's voice interrupts him, deep and sonorous as she emerges from inside the shop. "I wouldn't say such things, if I were you."

Watanuki feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise as she strides towards him. This Yuuko—eyes heavy with knowledge, expression somber and every movement tainted by hitsuzen—frightens him. The black lace and red slashes of silk in her dress seem suddenly macabre.

She lifts his chin to look into his eyes, her long nails digging uncomfortably into his skin. Sometimes he forgets how her eyes are the color of blood, how menacing and alien they can be. "Do not forget, Watanuki-kun, that words have power."

He nods, solemn, ignoring the prick of pain from her nails. "I won't." The last thing in the world he wants is somebody else getting hurt because of him, even Doumeki.

If anything that only makes her look sadder. But Maru and Moro come bursting through the shouji doors; the stifling atmosphere is abandoned in lieu of exaggerated demands for beer and snacks.

The next day, he falls out a window.

He feels his existence growing thin, barely tethered in place.

_He forgets_.

* * *

It is as any other day, a partly cloudy afternoon overlooking another argument.

"Muskmelon‽ That's the most ridiculous request yet, and given it's _you_ that's saying something!" He gesticulates wildly, sharp movements cutting the air. "Do you think I'm made of money? You know Yuuko-san would demand some too, and then I'd be in _even more debt_ because of _melons_!"

"So loud," Doumeki complains, finger in his ear and suspiciously close to rolling his eyes.

Watanuki puffs up and bellows in anger, stomping several steps ahead. "I wish you'd go away, you ungracious oaf! I wish somebody would take you away _right now!_"

The air is suddenly sharp and chill; there's a thundering absence of sound, an electric buzz of emptiness.

Slowly, his hands descend from the air, curling into tight fists. His stomach drops as he turns, knowing what he'll see.

The street is empty.

"Doumeki?" His voice quivers, but it's quickly covered with anger. "Hey, cut it out, this isn't funny." He glances around, hoping the idiot is hiding somewhere, but there's still no sign of him. He can't ignore the awful sense of _wrong _in the air. Desperate fear grabs his chest and pulls something loose, his voice and volume rise. "Doumeki?" He twists around, searching desperately for any sign. " Oi, Doumeki! DOUMEKI!"

A shape out of the corner of his eye brings a brief surge of hope.

It's Yuuko. He freezes in place, knowing what her appearance means.

"I told you to be careful," her words cut into him, bringing sudden memories of her warning and he knows he deserves the awful twisting in his gut. _This is his fault._

It takes several moments before he can pull himself out of it, push down the bile in his throat and move on. This is his responsibility. He has to save Doumeki. His hands twist the fabric of his uniform, eyes unable to meet hers. "W-what happened to him?"

She fixes a hard stare on him, silver earrings catching the light like knives. "Kamikakushi."

Something cold seizes Watanuki's heart as a hundred horrific possibilities play out. He's no longer foolish enough to believe that he'll be lucky, that Doumeki will mysteriously show up in the rafters dazed but otherwise unharmed.

"Do you know what took him?" his hands grip the blue bentou fabric hard enough it creaks with stretching.

"I cannot tell you, the price is too high." This is the emotionless witch, the one that exacts heavy prices without flinching. It seems strange to see her so serious when she's wearing a ruffled yellow blouse and white capri pants instead of something darker, more formal.

"Do you know where he is?"

"I cannot tell you."

Desperation edges into his voice. "How can I find him?"

Her eyes close. "I cannot tell you."

The frustration knots his stomach. It's his fault it happened in the first place. Of course he can't know—the price is too high. Seizing the taut line of determination buried deep in his spine, the need to protect the people he cares about (and Doumeki), he straightens to his full height.

"I have to find him. That idiot," Something like a smile is on his face, but it feels far too painful. "He would do the same for me."

"Is that the only reason?"

"What?" He blinks a few times, confused.

Yuuko leans in, face close enough to dust her breath onto his cheeks. Even after knowing her so long, it's still intimidating. "Is that the only reason you want to find him?"

She's trying to get at something, but (_of course_) won't just tell him what's going on. She'd say he wouldn't learn anythi—

He remembers with a lurch she'd warned him about careless words to begin with, and he didn't listen. Closing his eyes a moment to rebury the guilt and pain, he pushes on. Feeling bad about it won't bring Doumeki back.

Kimihiro won't wait seven days to see if Doumeki will turn up, nor does he know any miko to try to summon him back. He has to do this on his own. "I have to call for him." Kimihiro has read enough accounts to know the traditional procedure.

"There is another way." Smoke comes out as she speaks, as if her words have taken form in the air.

"But you can't tell me," He interrupts with a pained smile, "I know."

The corner of her red lips quirks up. "You're learning, Watanuki-kun."

It's tempting to cook, to let the familiar patterns soothe his mind and help him think, but he doesn't have the time. Every second Doumeki is slipping away further from reach. His hands twitch with the need to _do something_; he wrings them just to keep them occupied.

Glancing around, there are no clues as to what happened. "It all happened so fast…" he murmurs, not realizing he's speaking aloud. "I didn't sense anything until it was too late." Surely there should've been at least something to go on. It's not like there was some secret trapdoor laying about. It _clicks_. "In order to disappear so quickly, there must have been an entrance to the Other World somewhere close!"

Watanuki crawls, squeezes, and climbs through every small opening he can find. The playground tunnel, light post, and fence do nothing. Neither does climbing under the sales banner, park benches, slide, or metal railing.

Then he sees it. The dark gap between two brick buildings that's narrower than his shoulders. It seems strangely dark for the middle of the day, light only able to creep a few feet before falling off.

The rough brick tugs at his uniform, scraping his skin through the fabric and snagging on buttons. It's uncomfortable but he pushes on.

When it starts to curve sinuously he knows he's on the right path. He isn't sure how long it takes him to squeeze through, time meaning nothing to endless dark walls. There are several tears he'll have to mend later, if his uniform hasn't been ruined entirely. It doesn't matter; he'll deal with it later.

It finally widens into open space, Kimihiro taking deep, appreciative breaths at the free movement. dirt on the floor. There is no sun or stars, only a sourceless dim grey light reflecting off the dull dirt ground.

A soft _slap _catches his attention.

The Oden fox is playing with a white ball, tossing it up and catching it in its tiny paws. Kimihiro smiles at his luck of encountering a friend so soon.

"Hello, it's been a while."

The fox smiles at him. "You must be lost."

"I need to find Doumeki. Have you seen him?" It's then he notices four paths lay ahead—a dark cave, a steep incline, a smooth path, and a grassy field. The varied terrain side by side doesn't seem strange, following strange dream-logic that glazes over unimportant details.

"That way," the tiny paw not holding the white orb points to the field.

Kimihiro frowns. The tall grass has a dark miasma about it that makes him uneasy. He can't be sure of his senses here, but surely they wouldn't be complete off. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. You should go that way," the fox insists, pointing forcefully enough its entire body vibrates with the effort. "_Hurry!"_

Unsure why the fox seems so agitated, he decides to take the advice and keep going. "Thank you. I'm sorry I can't stay longer to talk to you." Looks must be deceiving, here—the dangerous paths are the safest ones. He hurries into the grass that reaches above his head, not looking back.

The fox tosses the eye it was holding into its mouth, waving goodbye with a laugh.

It doesn't take long for Watanuki to lose all sense of direction, long stalks closing up behind him as if never disturbed, giving him no clue as to where he's already been. The sky is still a dull, featureless grey that offers no landmarks—at least none he can see though the crowded tendrils.

Something tugs at his sleeve, perhaps a stray bramble. The captured limb is distractedly tugged free as he tries to think of some way to orient himself. Doumeki hadn't left anything behind, nor had Kimihiro thought to grab something in his haste. Another snag in his pants leg makes him grunt in annoyance as he stomps forward, hoping the grass will start staying down.

Not three steps and there's a tiny tug on the back of his shirt. Frowning, Kimihiro looks around, but sees nothing his clothing could be catching on. A quick brush-off and he's back to making his way through the grass.

One, two, three more and he whirls around, fear creeping up his spine. Nothing but grass.

"Who's there?" he calls. No answer.

Disregarding direction he surges forward, all but running. The tugs increase, random bits of clothing falling victim at first, then hands, ankles, elbows as they become more insistent. He doesn't look, _can't _look out of fear for what he'd see.

Tears in his shirt grow worse as he forces his tired body into a stumbling run, hands blindly pulling at the long threads looping around his limbs. _The grass, it's the grass! _some part of his brain screams through his growing panic. Knowing does him no good, as he's surrounded on all sides.

Both arms and a leg become so entangled he can't quickly extract them, he roughly falls to his knees. More tendrils grab his neck and waist, thrashing about only manages to dislodge his glasses.

There's a sudden flurry of activity where they fell, the binds holding him captive letting go. They retreat, and it's as if nothing happened at all. Breath still burning in his lungs, he stares in disbelief. If all it took for him to get through unscathed was losing his glasses, he'll count himself as lucky. Legs wobbly from the scare,

"Why did the oden fox say to come this way?" he murmurs as he dusts himself off and adjusts his tattered clothing to some semblance of order. Surely this wasn't the _easy_ path compared to the others!

Now he's back to being hopelessly lost. "I just want to pass through," he tells the grass, unsure if it will do anything. "I'm looking for someone."

Before he has a chance to tense up there's a gust of wind on his left, the eddies of current unraveling into a familiar form.

"Found you," Sakura says with a grin. "I was worried I wouldn't be able to."

The tension and fear drain away, his smile watery but genuine. "Sakura-chan, it's good to see you."

"I saw what happened in a dream. You need help to navigate this place."

He bursts out, "You didn't make a wish, did you?"

"No need. I can be here almost as easily as you can, since it's like a dream" The breeze picks up again, turning the voluminous, light fabric of her dress into something ethereal. "I can't stay long."

"You can't help me too much." He isn't quite sure when or how he realized this, but it rang true in his mind. This was his fault, and he bore the bulk of responsibility. Too much interference would take all the meaning out of it.

She steps forward, almost floating until her dress dusts the edges of his shoes. One delicate hand presses over his heart. "Do you feel it?"

"My heartbeat?" It quickens, like a bird fluttering in the cage of his ribs.

She shakes her head, hair swaying with the movement. "Doumeki."

The blush rises before he has any chance to stop it. "W-why would that idiot be—" _His blood._

Sakura smiles gently, magnanimously not commenting on his slack-jawed expression. "You understand now. "

Gold and blue eyes meet green. He places his hand over hers, pressing them into the steady beat in his chest. "Thank you."

"Don't be afraid." Sakura smiles, a light that pushes back the sense of desperation that's been creeping up on him. "You'll find him, I know it."

A rustle of wind and she's gone, though the warmth in his palm lingers. There's a tug in his chest, pulling him towards something distant but definitely there.

Blood calling to blood. "Hang in there, idiot," he whispers to the air, hurrying forward. Now he knows where he needs to go.

Knowing, however, doesn't make the trek any easier. The grass is still tall and crowded in his path, the ground slowly rising into an incline. Large rocks scatter on the ground, tripping him up, forcing him to walk around or scramble over. He isn't sure when he's climbing over more rocks than grass, when he's reduced to crawling on all fours over jagged edges up an endless mountain, time dilated and blurred into something endless. All he thinks is _one more step, one more._

Confused by the lack of handholds, it takes him a moment to realize that he's finally at the top. Blinking once, he is suddenly surrounded by hallways, no sign of where he'd come from. The walls are like the scattered bones of some massive beast—smooth, curving white that almost blends into the dull grey of the sky.

Each beat of his heart tells him _he's there, he's there_, an ache that pulls him along. Now it's easy to pick out which way to go. _One more step, one more. _Kimihiro blindly follows the call, not even thinking as he weaves his way through twists and turns, feet dragging in the coarse powder. Somewhere beneath the exhaustion he knows he's in a maze created to block his way, that whatever took Doumeki knows he's coming but isn't trying to stop him directly. The thoughts slip through his hands like sand, lost by the blur of endless white hallways.

He almost trips over the small yellow Dreamseller before noticing it's there.

The Dreamseller frowns, blocking his path with his paws. "No passin' without payin' the toll."

"Toll?" The haze over his mind lifts as the word processes. Kimihiro _knows _Doumeki will be angry if he tries sacrificing anything. Sometimes he still remembers the raw look on the usually stoic boy's face when he'd found out about the eye. Being able to evoke that kind of emotion makes his gut clench with something he'd rather not name.

"Ya have ta gimme a dream. An' not some piddly one, it's gotta be somethin' sweet that y'have been holdin' on ta for a while." It licks its lips, rubs its hands together greedily in anticipation.

The corner of his mouth curves down, he doesn't remember the Dreamseller seeming quite so pushy, last time. Perhaps it's because he's in the Other World, and not a proper dream.

It's easier than expected to pick one out. It's a silly dream, one he knew would never come true: a normal life. A house with a yard, a fulfilling, mundane job, children underfoot and a sweet, smiling wife. For it to come about now, he'd have to lose all the friends he'd made through the shop, have to deny what they'd given him. Not worth it.

"Here you go," he says with a smile, his trembling hand suddenly holding a balloon. "I don't need this one anymore."

"Oooh, a good one." The small elephant-like thing inspects it. "Ya almost had it too long, ya know. It woulda turned rotten before long."

"I know," and the smile is suddenly much harder to keep on his face. "May I pass, now?"

"Ya, go on through," the Dreamseller says dismissively, his hungry eyes only for the balloon cradled in its paws.

Watanuki walks past quickly, not thinking about what will happen to his dream, why things seem strange. It doesn't matter, he has to find Doumeki.

The ground grows coarser, bits and pieces now recognizable as shards of bone. He doesn't think about it, just lets the lefts and rights turn into a mindless succession. After a while he feels the weight of something's gaze prickling between his shoulder blades, hears whispers echoing from the other side of the wall, sees something moving out of the corner of his eyes.

It isn't surprising when he turns a corner and sees Kohane waiting for him at the intersection of four paths. He didn't expect _her_, exactly, but there had been too much lurking on the edges for nothing to happen. Her long hair is tangled and wet, sodden clumps over a grey nightgown.

One hand raises tentatively toward her shoulder. "Kohane-chan, it's not safe here."

"I'm not in any danger. You are." Her voice is the unnerving monotone of when things were at their worst with her mother, sending unpleasant chills up Watanuki's spine. She meets his gaze with wide, dead eyes.

His senses were screaming that something was very wrong, but he ignores it. He couldn't just leave Kohane here. Gently he squeezes her shoulder in reassurance. "I'm sure we can find a way to get you home."

One small and grabs his wrist hard enough to bruise. "I don't need to go home."

"That hurts! Are you all right, Kohane-chan?"

"You and Shizuka-kun," she says as if he'd said nothing, "Are tied. What does it mean?"

"Oh no," he waves his hands frantically, falling into familiar patterns. "It doesn't mean anyth-"

His throat closes up over the words (_too little, too late_.)

"Wrong answer," she hisses, her grip tightening to where it feels like his bones are grinding together.

Choking on the pain, he manages to get out "Wait, please I—" before it's too much and he falls to his knees.

The whispers are echoing, reverberating into a roar as the floor starts draining away into a dark pit.

The girl _not her, can't be her _throws his hand away like a dead, dirty thing, leaving him to scramble for a hold on the sinking, loose ground. Shards of bone cut into his hands and knees but he finds no purchase until the last moment.

He grasps the edge with one hand, blocking the debris with the other.

But he's only able to put pressure on four fingers, his pinky unresponsive and his wrist still throbbing. It's not enough.

He falls.

For a few desperate moments there's nothing but darkness and air tearing at him, endless freefall with no begging or end.

A hand grabs him by the collar, jerking his entire body painfully and choking the breath out of him. He's hauled up and sideways, out of wherever he was falling onto a familiar porch.

"Haruka-san," his voice is raw and ragged. "Thank you."

Haruka isn't smiling. He's pulling at his cigarette every few seconds, barely taking it away from his mouth before bringing it back again.

It occurs to him suddenly that Haruka is _scared_.

"I almost didn't make it." His voice cuts through the air like physical blow.

The wind rushing past is still loud in his ears, the feeling of endlessness. "I-"

Sighing, Haruka's tone softens. "I can't put you back where you were. You'll have to take a different path." He takes a long drag of his cigarette, hands shaking. "A bad one."

"I'm sorry." Even after all this, Kimihiro still hadn't learned his lesson.

"I'll help you when I can." The shouji screen opens into blackness." Go, Shizuka is waiting for you."

Resolve hardens in his gut. The pull is still there with every pulse. "I _will_ save him."

The corner of Haruka's mouth quirks up, lending some semblance of normalcy to the situation.

Kimihiro steps through, not looking back.

It's raining.

What little light there is barely makes it through the torrent of water, visibility reduced to an arm's length ahead. There are currents tugging at his calves and his already drenched uniform clings uncomfortably to his skin, cold and heavy.

Fumbling about blindly, he's forced to catch himself from tripping over the rocky bottom several times. If he falls, he's not sure he'd be able to get back up.

The Ame Warashi strides into view, perfectly dry and standing on top of the water.

"How do I get out of here?" he shouts through the torrent, water entering his mouth like it's trying to steal his words away.

She looks down at him, imperiously pointing her umbrella in his face. "Why should I let you pass?"

"Doumeki—"

The umbrella jabs dangerously close to his eye. "Why should he be with you? Have you any proof he's not better off without you? You're just a foolish boy that was never meant to be."

The wince is instantaneous, but quickly smoothes out to a set jaw and clenched fist. "I don't. I don't know if he'd be better off without me or not! But I—" He looks off to the side, momentarily embarrassed, but meets her gaze again. "I want to be there for him, and he wants me to keep on existing. Isn't that enough?"

Her lips twist into a snarl. "You're being selfish."

"I don't care!" he screams, suddenly angry. "I have to-I _want _to find him!"

Like clouds suddenly parting her face clears up to a softer expression, something smug and proud. The umbrella is pulled back, no longer threatening. "Sometimes a little selfishness is a good thing."

The rain drains the anger out of him. Mouth turned down into a confused frown, he cuts to the point. "Will you let me through?"

With a stab of her umbrella into the air, water and rain part to reveal a gateway that hadn't been there moments before. It's even darker, crowded rough stones on all sides. "It will only get harder from here."

"Thank you," he says as he walks through, shoes squelching with each step. The going is slow because the ground is so rough, made all the more unpleasant by his stiff, cold clothing that he won't take the time to wring dry.

Kimihiro isn't sure why he hasn't felt hungry or thirsty yet (_just tired, so tired_) but decides it doesn't matter. He won't disappear; he has something he needs to do.

One foot in front of the other, over and over again. His shoelace breaks, and it doesn't take him long to lose the shoe when his foot gets stuck in between rocks. It hurts to walk, uncomfortably uneven until he grows accustomed to the pain. He's fallen enough his elbows and knees are all skinned and bruised. (_Left foot, right foot, repeat, repeat_.) There are no other paths, just an endless, jagged tunnel. Sometimes he has to lean on the wall as he walks to stay upright, sometimes he has to crawl, but he keeps moving in time with the pull in his blood.

There's a noise that doesn't fit, and it confuses him for a while, until there are gentle hands pulling him upright.

Two masses of dark curls, green eyes, and a sunny smile. Himawari is like a beacon, impossibly vivid compared to their surroundings.

"Watanuki-kun! You're hurt," she frowns at the cuts, hands fluttering over him (_like birds, like butterflies._) "You need to have those looked at."

Something thick and unsettling grows in his stomach. "I have to keep going."

"I know a shortcut. Come on, Watanuki-kun. This way!" Himawari beams, tugging his arm toward a dark corridor that hadn't been there before.

It's the wrong way, he knows it. That makes it no easier. He closes his eyes, trying to ignore how it feels like his heart is breaking. "I'm sorry, Himawari-chan. I shouldn't go with you."

Her grip tightens, nails digging in painfully. "Watanuki-kun, what are you talking about?"

"I know…" He starts again, trying to stop his voice from shaking. "I know I'm not supposed to go with you."

"Watanuki-kun…" She sounds like she's about to cry. He doesn't look, _can't _look at her.

"I can't go."

She ducks to put her face in front of his; confronting him with her big green eyes. "You have to. Please, Watanuki-kun, you need to come with me."

Splintering, shattering, his heart feels so heavy. "I can't do that. He'd get angry if I hurt myself in order to get him back."

"You care about him more than me?" and though he knows it isn't her (in her smile were echoes of something sharp and shining) it still hurts to hear that with her voice and know it's true. There's a necessary distance forming between them, an uncontrollable factor of who—_what _she is.

Looking at her again reminds him of when she told him her secret, that painful smile on her face. But her teeth are too bright, her smile too wide. She opens her eyes and there's only blackness.

"I won't let you go," her nails are sharper, drawing blood through his shirt.

Bile rises in his throat as he roughly shoves her back, twisting out of her grip despite the gouges left on his arm. Another push topples her over. She falls hard, mouth in a perfect "o," head bashing into a rock with a sickening squelch.

She doesn't get back up. The rock is turning red.

He runs, legs burning with the effort, each jolt of impact in his feat _not her, wasn't her, _each breath _I'm sorry, so sorry_. His other shoe is lost but he doesn't stop, can't stop, can't see through the tears and the nausea threatening to overtake him.

Eventually it's too much and he falls to his knees, vomiting up bile because his stomach is empty, breath ragged with held-in sobs.

On hands and knees he crawls forward, only to have one of his hands hit air.

The path ends. A sheer drop into blackness is the only thing ahead. All this time, all this struggling leads to nothing.

Broken, ragged laughter tears out of his throat. Himawari, all for nothing.

"I should've—I should've gone with her," he tells the air of the awful joke that sets him dry heaving again.

"I should've—" A warm hand settles on his back, soothing him through the worst of the retching. He doesn't have it in him to be scared.

"You did the right thing, Kimihiro-kun," Sakura says, her brow furrowed with worry. "Don't doubt yourself because it was hard." There's a hint of steel in her voice, of difficult decisions made and accepted out of necessity.

"Where can I go from here?" he gestures wildly at the ledge. "There's nothing there!"

"You're going the right way."

He stares at the drop, remembering the feeling of falling, remembering Kohane. "I don't even know if this is you! I don't know anything at all!" he screams, voice breaking. "I can't. If I mess up, Doumeki will—"

She grabs his hand with both of hers, squeezing. Tears threaten in the corner of her eyes as she gives him a smile that breaks his heart. He could fall in love with that smile, with the girl who's so like Himawari. But he isn't Shaoran, similar as she says they are. Their paths are not the same, and now he can feel it.

"Sakura-chan, I…" he chokes on the words, on the heaviness in his chest.

She presses their foreheads together and whispers, "It'll be ok, definitely."

A gentle tug pulls him back to his feet. He looks at her again, and she smiles reassuringly. "Don't forget hope, Kimihiro-kun."

"Thank you." A feather-light kiss on his cheek and she vanishes in a burst of wind and swirling white skirts.

One calming breath and he steps forward into nothing.

There is no light.

There must be ground, as he feels the uneven crunch under his shoes. Tentative reaches outward reveal rough-hewn stone on either side like the corridor he'd just been in, but this one isn't straight. It curves, sharp and sinuous as he makes a few halting steps forward.

There are so many twists and turns it feels like he's going in circles. His bare feet are cut open anew and his fingertips catch roughly on the walls as he tries to navigate. If it weren't for blood calling _this way_ he'd have thought all direction was lost.

No alternate routes present themselves, just steady, slow going that gives him time to let the guilt fester, nagging at him like the wounds on his body. He feels sick all over again, hands shaking and seeking the stones too roughly.

"Watanuki-kun!" Himawari's voice cuts through like a beam of sunlight. Reflexively he starts to turn around, to call out. _She's ok, she's ok._

"You mustn't look behind you," warns Sakura, her voice tight with worry. "Whatever happens, you must not look back."

His back is rigid with the strain of keeping still, of not getting the visual confirmation that he isn't an awful person (_murderer_) for hurting her doppelganger. The weight of a life is too much for anyone to bear.

"Watanuki-kun, what's wrong? Don't you want to see me?"

_It isn't her, it can't be her. She wouldn't be here, in the Other World._ Kimihiro walks down the twisted, narrow corridor, stepping high to avoid the rocks at his feet.

"Come on, Watanuki-kun. It's me! Aren't you listening?"

Breathe in, out, keep walking.

"Watanuki-kun?"

A hand covers his, Sakura's presence a warm ghost at his side. He can do this.

"Please look at me," she begs, pulling at his resolve.

He speeds up, moving as fast as he can in the darkness and uneven terrain.

"What is that?" the fear in her voice almost makes him pause. _She isn't real_.

"Watanuki-kun, what is that? It's getting closer."

There's a scream, and his heart lurches out of his chest, tumbling him to the ground. Digging his fingers into the rocks, he starts to glance back.

"Don't look." Haruka calls, almost unrecognizable from the panic in his tone.

"But she's—"

"_Do not look._"

"No, get away from me!"

There's a crack, a scream of pain.

"Watanuki-kun, please! Please, it's hurting me!"

He runs blindly forward, not caring where he's headed as long as it's away from her voice, but it doesn't fade. "Help me! Watanuki, don't leave me!"

He covers his ears as he runs, but despite the pounding rhythm of his footsteps and the greedy gasps for air he can still hear her perfectly.

"Help me! HELP ME!" She's cut off abruptly with a liquid crunch of bone, her words devolving to senseless screams and slithering squelches.

Stumbling forward through the tears in his eyes, it feels like part of his heart has been torn out, a gaping hollow in his chest.

There are no walls, floor, or ceiling he can see, only the physical reality of the ground crunching beneath his feet and the rough stone that snags his clothing when he veers too far, when he misses a turn.

Forward, forward. It doesn't matter what's ahead as long as it's away from the clawing guilt.

He sucks each breath in desperately, hoping it will give him the strength to push his legs one more time. There's no more sense of where he's going, the pull of Doumeki lost to his fear.

Something is following him.

It makes no sound, but he can feel it there, keeping pace as he runs.

Banging into corners like a pachinko ball he ignores the bruises and keeps pushing past the fear creeping up his spine, desperate to keep away from whatever it is behind him. It takes on all the memories of being chased (_before Doumeki,_) the countless ayakashi he'd had to run from in the past looming large in his mind.

This is worse. He knows it in his bones, in the blood that's rushing through his veins. This creature is the worst thing he's ever encountered.

_Twist, turn, left right left_, but it doesn't last. He's been running too long, holding onto the last threads of endurance with shaking hands.

He rounds a corner too fast and trips, ankle twisting painfully as he falls.

There's no point in scrambling away.

_It's here_.

There's fetid, hot breath curling around his neck. He can _feel _the presence of something hovering over his skin, Himawari's screams still echoing in his ears.

Body rigid in anticipation he can barely breathe. Each second is agony, anticipation making him shake as he stands back up.

"Watanuki," the voice sends an ache straight through him, sure as an arrow.

"Doumeki, you—" Kimihiro turns around.

"NO!" scream Sakura and Haruka, but it's too late.

A hundred eyes loom out of the darkness, unseen limbs looming.

Haruka and Sakura are lost, no longer able to help him.

There's nobody to save him, here. No Yuuko, no Doumeki. He has to do this himself. Surely there's something, _anything_.

_This eye, this blood means people want me to keep on living. I won't die._

He reaches inside, thinking about all the people he wants to see again, about stupid Doumeki who's counting on him. Pulling, tearing at the hard ball of determination, ripping at whatever gives purchase, at the power he's been wishing away but desperately needs right now.

Something breaks loose.

Dreams are his domain, being a boy who has never been quite real. He has power here.

He can feel the connection between himself and Doumeki like a taut line, his presence at the edge of his sense. Kimihiro _pulls_, distance just another obstacle between them, a construct that means nothing in the Other World, in dreaming. He sees that stupid face, pictures it clearly in his mind and tries to get every fiber of his being to_ be there._

Blinding light makes him cower, but the pressure of something looming is no longer there.

Once his eyes adjust he's in a bare, grey space of smooth, endless stone. Only two things break up the monotony: the prone form of Doumeki, and a familiar face that makes his hands start shaking all over again

Jorougumo claps slowly, methodically, almost a mockery. Her full lips are quirked up, an indulgent smile as she strides forward.

"Congratulations, Watanuki Kimihiro, written April first. You made it."

"Why did you take him? Is it revenge?" he snaps, eyes raking over Doumeki's body for any injuries. He wants to run forward and check, but it's too dangerous.

"Oh no, I'm not her. This form merely seemed most appropriate." She laughs, patting his cheek with cold hands. "It's so much easier to use people you already know."

"Was any of this real?" Arms cut through the air angrily.

Her eyes pierce through him. "You, of all people should not need to ask that. You experienced it, and remember it. Doesn't that make it real enough?"

Weight settles in his chest. Even if Himawari never knows what happened, he'll never forgive himself. He'll never be able to forget what he did.

"Why did you do this? Why did you kidnap Doumeki?"

"A lot of reasons," She shrugs, her low-slung top bordering on obscene. Kimihiro realizes that such things don't affect him anymore because of Yuuko and briefly boggles at how much his life has changed.

"I was trying to help you learn something you'll surely need in the future. Kamikakushi happens because we want to teach humans something. Most are simply unable to handle it." There are countless stories of children coming back not quite right after being stolen away. "This was a lesson, you passed."

"But _why—_"

"I owed a favor," she snaps.

Anger surges to the forefront. "I could've died! Doumeki could've-"

"You wouldn't have been worthy, then," she interrupts, examining her nails.

"Worthy of what?"

"Being Yuuko's successor."

His heart skips a beat. Surely she's joking. It isn't important, this is all a distraction. "I'm taking him back. You can't have him."

She presses a lacquered nail into his chest, right above his racing heart. "You two are bound. Simply stealing him away would never be enough." A sigh, a pout. "It would've been nice to keep him. Humans so pure are rare in these times."

"Does this mean you'll let us go?"

She wags her finger, tutting. "You haven't paid a price for him."

"I have." Watanuki meets her eyes, fists clenched. "I gave my time, my effort, my blood, sweat, tears. I wandered through the darkness, made decisions I can't take back to get here. I've paid in full."

Clapping her hands in delight, she dusts a kiss on his cheek. "Very good. It looks like this wasn't a waste of my time."

He finally gives into the urge and runs forward, checking Doumeki for a pulse, breathing, injuries.

"He's only sleeping." She nudges the lanky boy with her foot. "He'll wake up shortly."

And she's gone.

The tension ebbs out and makes him collapse over his friend. Hands reach to touch his shoulders, face, hands, affirming they're actually there.

Gold eyes open slowly, heavy with sleep. He sits up with a grunt, eyes absorbing every detail of Kimihiro's battered hands and shredded shirt.

Normally he'd be embarrassed by the tears running down his cheeks, but he's too relieved to care. "Doumeki, you idiot. Show some gratitude or something." His voice cracks and he can't see Doumeki's face for the watery blur. "I, the great Watanuki-sama, saved you."

A hand, warm and calloused closes over his, his world narrowing down to this single point of contact. "Thanks."

There's a moment of silence where Kimihiro feels something—not new, but finally acknowledged—swelling in his chest, a welcome weight. Words reach the tip of his tongue, about to spill out the mess of what he's feeling.

"I still want muskmelon."

"Bottomless pit," Kimihiro chokes out, caught between anger and relief, squeezing Doumeki's hand as hard as he can to confirm it's really there. Whatever he was going to say can wait. "Let's go home."


End file.
